


Take a Deep Breath

by Melo_Mapo



Series: Din Djarin's Secret Network of Past Lovers [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Comfort with almost no hurt, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Foot Massage, Healer OMC, M/M, Pre-Season/Series 01, Touch-Starved Din Djarin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melo_Mapo/pseuds/Melo_Mapo
Summary: Din Djarin is in need of a place to hunker down and licks his wounds. The universe provides something a little better.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Din Djarin's Secret Network of Past Lovers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940539
Comments: 12
Kudos: 80





	Take a Deep Breath

The contract had not been a hard one, all considered. Local, too, so the bounty was delivered and the money already in Din’s pocket. But the day had been long, the weather was hot and rainy, and the bounty had managed to get a lucky hit in with his knife. The blade had cut right where the shin guard ended, a shallow but long cut on Din’s inner left thigh. Din needed a room for a few hours, to patch up the wound and rest before the 4-hour trek to the Razor Crest. The ship was hidden far from the small village, which spaceport had a reputation for its disappearing ships. 

Despite the rain falling hard, Din walked past the first two establishments he spotted without stopping. The clientele and staff he could glance at through the windows indicated that if he was to book a room for a couple hours, it would come with company. Din had not been touched by a friendly hand since he had last been at the Covert, and the idea of paying a stranger to touch him intimately felt wrong. Paz would call him a romantic, and he might be right. Din could not conceive for himself of intimacy that wasn’t freely given, and received. 

His musings and tired legs carried him to the next block, where finally a more reputable inn came into view, complete with a sign creaking as it swung in the gusts of wind. The sign was barely legible, but helped by his visor’s enhanced low-light vision, Din pieced the name together: “The Thirsty Tymp”. The sign in the window said “vacancy”, and the open door revealed a small, quiet crowd, and no obvious prostitutes. Din stepped in just as lightning struck, closely followed by thunder and redoubling rain. The light flickered, as it often did in this backwater town, and Din walked slowly to the bar, careful not to limp despite the pain, aware that every gaze was following him. The barmaid, a giant of a woman, easily Paz’s size if with more curves everywhere, watched him approach, expression neutral. 

A sudden shuffle and smack behind him had Din turn around, hand hovering by his blaster, but it was merely two bodies colliding in the doorway in their haste to exit. Glancing around the room, Din counted six less people - his arrival had chased away some of the clientele. Turning back to the woman behind the bar, Din said: 

“I am pursuing neither quarrel nor bounty at present.” 

The woman just looked him down, then back up, clinical, and Din added, sheepish:

“I apologize for the disturbance.”

The woman shrugged:

“Way I see it, you spared me having to kick some brawlers out later. What can I get you?” 

She rummaged in the cocktail area briefly, and emerged triumphant with a wide straw she started cleaning. 

“I’m actually here for a room.”

“Ah.”

Her silence prompted more explanation out of Din:

“I need to address some minor injuries.”

Her eyebrows rose, and Din wasn’t sure what it meant, but she stared at his bloody leg for a short moment before turning away and bellowing: 

“Lo!”

They both waited a few seconds only before a tall, young man pocked his head out of the backroom. 

“Yes Ma?”

“You’ve got a patient.”

“But Maaaa, I’m not a healer yet.” 

The whine made the son sound more petulantly young than he likely was. Actually, Din surmised they might be the same age, mid-twenties. 

“Lowu Arkani, there’s a man bleeding in my inn, and you tell me you won’t do anything just because you haven’t sworn the oath yet?”

The man straightened at the reprimand, and stepped fully out of the back room, coming to stand next to his mother. He appraised Din with a quick glance, spotted the blood, and nodded. 

“Well, then, sir, if you’ll follow me.” 

Din thanked the inn’s owner, and stepped into the backroom behind the man. The small room was overflowing with crates, only lit by a small lamp resting above a cramped desk covered in bills, receipts, and an open spreadsheet. 

“The accounts can wait,” said Lowu before leading Din up a narrow staircase and into a hallway with numbered doors. The first door did not bear any numbers, and behind was a modest medical room, probably the future practice of the almost healer. 

“Please, sit, Mister?”

“Mando is fine.” 

“Ah, sure. Could you remove your boots and pants? And, er, armor?” 

Din looked at the man for a moment. He was tall, taller than Din, but lanky, with soft hands that looked like they had never yielded a weapon. Din was so very tired, and the lure of real care was appealing. Lowu was already readying an honest-to-Manda bacta patch. Making sure to keep his blaster close, Din slowly disrobed, grunting in pain when he had to peel off the blood-crusted fabric of his underlayer to where it had adhered to his wound. 

Immediately, Lowu turned to him, hushing Din gently and leading the bounty hunter to sit on the examination chair. Surprised by the firm pressure of the healer’s hands, and the worried furrow in his brow, Din complied. 

“There, there, let’s take a look.”

Lowu cleaned the wound carefully, first with water, then with antiseptic. It stung a bit and Din tensed, causing the wound to bleed sluggishly. 

“You’d benefit from a few stitches, if you’re up for it.” 

Din nodded his assent, and Lowu quickly injected a local anesthetic. His fingers were sure as he threaded the needle and made a neat row of four stitches down the cut. Din could feel the pull on the layers of skin and the sensation was different, not just because the pain was dulled, but because it wasn’t his own clumsy self doing the job. 

“Take a deep breath, you are doing well, just tying off the last stitch.” 

Din did as asked and felt his body relax minutely. When Lowu finished the last stitch, he cleaned the wound again, delicately avoiding the sutures as he padded the area dry before applying the bacta patch. 

“All done. How do you feel?”

“Fine.” 

Unbothered by the terse answer, Lowu started helping Din back up. 

“Do you want pain killers for when the anesthetic wears off?”

“No.”

“Hmmm.”

Lowu considered Din for a moment, and the bounty hunter felt a bit bad for being such a bad patient, but painkillers got him loopy. 

“I’ll walk you to your room,” the soon-to-be healer said. 

Not bothering with the ruined pants, Din stepped into his boots and bundled the rest under one arm. The wound was already starting to hurt again, a burning sensation that flared when the muscle contracted on each step, forcing Din to limp as he followed Lowu into the hallway. Thankfully, they didn’t have far to go: Lowu entered a code in the keypad of the door across from his future practice. Lowu stepped to the side, letting Din pass him as he entered the room. It was simply outfitted: a bed, an armoire, a small desk, and a chair. The window was barred, offering at least the illusion of safety. 

“The refreshers are shared, at the end of the hallway. I can help you there and back if you’d like, you really should avoid walking on this leg while the bacta acts.” 

Din was tired, but he recognized a generous offer when he heard one. He knew he would rest better once he was sonic-ed. With a sigh, Din turned around and hobbled to the end of the hallway, hoping no vengeful colleagues of his catch of the day would burst in on him half-dressed and half-carried by Lowu. 

By the time he was refreshed and back in the bedroom, the adrenaline crash and the pain were close to having him too exhausted to sleep, still jittery yet with no energy to do anything about it. Unsure about what to do, Din stood there, wavering.

“Hey, here, let me help, get you settled.”

Without waiting for an answer, Lowu left Din to lean on the back of the chair and went to the bed, turning out the blankets and plumping up the pillows. 

“Come on, man, you’re going to fall asleep any second.” 

Din shuffled over and sat heavily on the edge of the bed.

“Won’t. Adrenaline.” 

“Hmm. Need a hand?” 

Lowy’s hands hovered over Din’s boots until the bounty hunter nodded. Crouching in front of Din, and with a gentleness the bounty hunter felt undeserving of, the healer guided the Mandalorian’s feet out of his boots, then got to work peeling his socks off. Din was so focused on unbuckling his chest and back pieces, he did not notice Lowu’s hands were back on him until they were firmly massaging his calf. The healer looked up at Din’s noise of surprise, and smiled:

“That ok?”

“Why would you…?”

Lowu shrugged, lowering his eyes to where he was slowly rolling Din’s muscle between his palms.

“Without painkillers, unless you fall asleep soon, the night will suck. Endorphins will help.”

“Do all your patients benefit from such extensive care?”

At that question, the healer looked up, meeting Din’s visor, and smiled:  
“I haven’t sworn the oath yet, remember. You are not a patient. Just a guy who needs help. Help I can provide. Do you not want this?” 

Had he been in full possession of himself, Din might have sent Lowu away. But he had been chasing bounties with no stop back on Nevarro for weeks, no, months, and he was weary down to his bones. Past the pain, and the exhaustion, he was craving human touch. Placing his armor pieces on the spot next to him on the bed, along with his blaster, Din scooted up the bed until he was reclining on the pillows, wearing his long-sleeved under-armor shirt, underwear, and helmet. 

“Please,” he said. 

Lowu smiled softly, stood from his crouch and walked to the desk, bringing the cahir close to the bed. He popped out to his practice and came back with a vial of oil. After some more pillow shuffling, Lowu had Din sitting turned towards him, the bounty hunter’s thighs on the bed and his calves and feet on Lowu’s lap. After warming the oil in his palms, Lowu got to work, starting with Din’s injured thigh, which he took great pains not to jostle, before moving to the other leg and putting some more pressure behind his kneading. It felt… really good. Din didn’t think he’d ever gotten massaged, and it was nice. He could definitely feel himself relax into the pillows, tension bleeding out as Lowu moved on to his calves. The healer spent time there working knots out of the muscles, and Din further sank into the bed, not asleep - he wouldn’t fall asleep with a stranger in the room - but knowing he would manage to once alone. 

And then, Lowu took hold of Din’ right heel with one hand, and dug his other hand’s knuckles in Din’s foot’s arch.

Din heard himself make a truly embarrassing noise, somewhere between a strill’s mating call and a dying bantha. Chuckling at his reaction, Lowu moved his hands so that both sets of fingers supported the heel while his fingers massaged the arch. It felt amazing. So good some wires were starting to get crossed and, to his embarrassed surprise, Din felt himself harden. And in his state of undress, there was no hiding it.

“I’m sorry, this is... involuntary.”

To his surprise, the healer just grinned and switched to the other foot.

“Dude, I just finished my apprenticeship. I’ve been puked on, pissed on, bled on, I’ve helped deliver babies, and autopsied cadavers. Bodily fluids don’t scare me. If it makes you feel good, I’m happy to help.”

Lowu did something wonderful that had Din close his eyes, and focus on the sensation, firm fingers rubbing the edges of his foot. 

“You... uh... are you sure it’s ok?”

“Don’t worry. It’s not like I’m being very professional myself. And honestly? The idea I can get a tough guy like you making those noises? It’s kriffing hot, and I don’t even swing that way.”

Lowu punctuated his remark with a well-timed, firm pull on Din’s ankle, causing him to groan in relief - he hadn’t even known he was carrying tension in his ankles. 

Lowu spent what felt like hours massaging Din’s feet and legs, working out kinks where he could, only skimming the spots that were too tense to be helped. He even gently pulled on Din’s toes until they felt tingly and loose. Eventually, pleasure and pain both grew distant as the sound of the rain outside, Lowu’s regular breathing, and his lovely hands lulled Din into a pliant state of well-being. When a discreet knock came at the door, Din barely reacted. Enemies would have come barging in anyway, he rationalized as Lowu went to answer it. 

“How is he doing?” came the innkeeper’s voice.

“Good. Almost asleep. I’ll be home in a minute,” answered Lowu in a murmur. 

The door closed again and Lowu moved about the room, stopping by the desk before heading back to the bed. After checking the bacta patch with his fingertips, barely a caress of a touch, the healer grabbed the covers and carefully laid them on top of the Mandalorian. Din sighed and tried to move, to what goal he wasn’t sure, but Lowu shushed him and pushed him back into the pillows. 

“Just rest, man. I left a note.”

Lowu dropped a piece of paper on top of Din’s chest plate, next to the bounty hunter on the bed, and exited the room. The door locked behind him with a soft nick, and the lights turned off. 

With the last of his energy, Din grabbed the note and turned on his helmet light. The note read:

_Breakfast is between 6 AM and 10 AM downstairs. Don’t be a stranger: come say hi before you leave, and I’ll apply a fresh bacta patch._   
_Sweet dreams,_   
_Lowu Arkani,_   
_Mandalorian Whisperer_


End file.
